Faded Existence
by Tears of Deathwishxxx
Summary: Former LAPD cop Damijin Spade's life is shattered by the murders of his two sons after he was kicked off the force. Police do nothing to bring his sons' killers to justice, so he's taken the law he once upheld into his own hands to do it himself.
1. Beginnings

Hero, vigilante, warrior. Three words, yes? They are three words that describe one man who rose up to fight the evil that plagued him- that man being Damijin Spade. Damijin Spade was an average Los Angeles police officer who worked the SWAT unit and the late beats. He was a decorated but controversial officer who used lethal methods to take down criminals, so most of the Los Angeles prisons were never filled. This was a cop who played for keeps, tired of the bad guys going in and out of prison. Damijin Spade's latest drug bust would be his last before he would be thrown off the force and his two young sons slain by a young merciless crime lord named Lee Bernan-who, like the Kingpin posed as a businessman. The mother of the two boys had been kidnapped, but there was no confirmation whether she was dead or alive.

**DAMIJIN SPADE BEFORE HE BECAME THE SNYPA-**

Damijin Spade was in his black pickup headed toward a known military base where he once served in the Army. He got to the front gate. The guard then asked for ID. Spade rolled down his window and out of it came a sawed-off shotgun. The MP went for his sidearm, but it was too late. He went down in a pool of his own blood as Spade barreled through the gate. An alarm sounded and MPs ran out with their M16s ready to fire. Spade kicked open the truck door and bailed out. Six guards surrounded Spade.

"Get your hands in the air! You're under arrest for trespassing!"

Spade dropped his shotgun and raised his hands in the air. He reached for something on his back. A guard moved in to handcuff him, but microseconds later the MP looked down at the bloody waterfall where his hand used to be and then looked at Spade, who had a katana in his hands. His fellow MPs were confused. Spade moved to the next MP and then cut him down.

"FIRE!!"

The MPs fired their assault weapons, but they could not hit Spade. He was fast. Spade moved in and with each slash, he cut down a guard until he got to the last one, who picked up the sawed-off shotgun.

"Get away from me, you damn freak!" she whimpered.

Spade moved in closer, holstering his sword. The MP fired Spade's shotgun. It knocked him back, but not down.

The frightened MP Officer moved away from Spade until she found herself against a wall. He moved in closer. She whimpered. He took his shotgun back and kissed the officer. Then the female MP felt a prick in her lip. Spade had pressed a needle from between his teeth and pricked the woman with it. He spit the needle out and watched the poison take effect as the military policewoman's lip bled and she turned green. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and that was it. Spade continued to walk toward the armory, but he met resistance. He used the M-16 he picked up and fired, taking down his opposition. He kicked in the armory's door and took all he needed from ammo to assault weapons to explosives and loaded his truck with them. As the intruder alert alarm continued to sound he heard the sound of a engine starting. Spade got into his truck and pulled off into the night...

That night, Spade was in his safehouse. He was customizing his weapons and was altering his truck. He laser-sharpened his sword and customized his own ammo and altered his SWAT armor.

Two nights later-

Spade was outside on a rooftop, donning his old SWAT uniform (without the LAPD SWAT label), a black mask, and a trench coat. He was kneeling at the ledge of the roof, looking down at the doomed city below.

_"There will be no mercy for the merciless. Damiijin Spade died a long time ago. Just call me...the Snypa."_


	2. Birth of a Snypa

Spade mounted his motorcycle and rode into the Los Angeles night. While on his motorcycle, he heard someone scream. When Spade got to the scene, he saw six guys surrounding a smaller man and beating him.

"Where's that money at, son?" asked one assailant.

"You owe us, man!" said another.

"You know, six on one isn't that much of a fair fight," said Spade.

"And just who the hell are you?"

"I'm a guy who believes in fair fights," replied Spade. "So come and fight me."

The thugs turned to Spade and pulled out pistols.

"Well, we hate fair fights. We like guns, though."

"So do I," agreed Spade, followed by a blast from his USAS-12 combat shotgun. "As for your question..."

Spade fired another shot, taking down another thug.

"I am but a man..."

Another shot.

"Who hates..."

Then another.

"Scum like you..."

Then a fifth blast fired.

"…who escape the hands of justice."

The last and final thug got really scared and took off running.

"You're a twisted cop!" he screamed.

Spade put his shotgun away and pulled out a throwing knife. He tossed the blade, which connected with the back of the thug's head and sent him down instantly. Spade looked at his handiwork and smiled behind his mask. He hoisted the thug up and then pulled out two kunai knives, nailing the dead thug to a brick wall by his hands. Then Spade turned to the victim.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'll make it," said the frail man. "But who are you?"

"Me? I'm just a simple man who delivers the justice the courts deny the people."

The next morning, there was a commotion as Spade rode down the street. He looked at a gathering crowd. He got out of his truck and walked over to them.

"What happened here?" Spade asked.

"You haven't heard?" asked a man in the crowd. "There were six thugs who tried to rob this guy, but some dude in all black came and then shot all of them except one."

"Yeah," another man chimed in. "That guy right there had a knife put through him and he was nailed to a brick wall."

"So what do the cops make of this?" asked Spade.

"Well, they think that whoever did this is the one who killed all those MPs on that military base. The cops think that he's a master in various styles of martial arts, including ninjutsu."

Spade looked at the corpses before the police could cover them up and said: "_Shurikenjutsu_."

The men looked at him. "What?"

"_Shurikenjutsu_, the ninja art of throwing blades. Well, I'd love to finish this conversation, but I need to hit the bank."

Spade was leaving a bank he had made a withdrawal at. As he was walking out, two suspicious men walked in. When Spade got back to his truck, he heard the sounds of shotguns being cocked and fired.

"If everybody cooperates, we won't have anyone die today!"

"You, fill this bag up!"

"You, show me the safe!"

Spade got back out of the truck, reaching for a combat knife and putting it in his back pocket. He saw one of the robbers run out of the bank with his loot toward a black van. Spade crept up behind him, but the robber turned around and reached for his 12-gauge pump action. Spade was quicker: he grabbed the guy's arm and broke it. Then he kneed him in the stomach, followed by jamming the knife in the back of the robber's neck and retracting it. His partner came outside to see him dead. The second robber held his shotgun out and looked around, only for Spade to kick it out of his hands and land a stiff left hook which made him stumble. This robber was dumber than his friend. He took off running, Spade on his heels. The robber ran toward a fire escape and Spade fired, hitting him in the leg. The robber was tenacious. He tried to crawl away from his hunter. Spade decided to slow his pace and let him suffer. Once the injured robber had exhausted his stamina, he turned to face his assailant.

"Go ahead!" exclaimed the wounded robber. "Do it! No one's gonna miss me anyway!"

"I oblige," agreed Spade. "_No one_ will miss you."

Spade then reached for that same knife, but the injured robber was pulling out a backup piece- a Smith and Wesson. Spade reacted quickly by diving out of the way as the shots. He recovered by cocking the shotgun and pulling the trigger, buckshot catching the criminal in the side and the powerful blast moving his carcass a few feet. Spade climbed back to his feet and looked over his success, then jabbed the knife in the mouth of the corpse.

"Dumb bastard," muttered Spade, dropping the shotgun, dusting himself off, and walking back to his truck. "He ruined my damn workout clothes."


	3. Tortures of the Past

**A/N: BLAKKSTONE wants to know the background of the Snypa's skills, so I will share them in this chapter.**

Spade was in his apartment after stashing his truck in a nearby warehouse where all his weapons were. He was flashing back on his memories as a child in foster care when his parents died as firefighters. His foster parents were nice, but his foster brothers were cruel to him:

_"What are you doing with my game?!"_

_Spade: "I just wanted to play. I like action games."_

_A punch to the jaw had Spade cringe back._

_"I don't care! You wanna play, get your own system!"_

_"But, Jason---"_

_Another punch to the other jaw from his other foster brother, Norman._

_"He said get out of his room, Damijin! What kind of name is that? Damijin? Ha!"_

_Spade ran from the house and ran past a field, where he saw a bunch of kids his age...with swords, bo staves, and knives. He spit the blood out of his mouth and walked over to the kids. A girl walked up to him with a short staff and held it out in front of her._

_"Who are you and what are you doing here?"_

_"I just...wanted to watch."_

_"Well, you can't! Get out of here!"_

_Just like his brothers, she was mean. Then a tall slender man walked over to them and squatted down to look eye-to-eye with Spade._

_"What's your name?"_

_"Damijin Spade, sir,"_

_"Well, Damijin Spade," said the man. "I'm Kyai. Do you like what you see from my students?"_

_Spade stammered. "Y-yes, sir."_

_"Well, you look like you just got into a fight." Kyai said._

_"Yes, my brothers beat me up," replied Spade. "But I couldn't fight back. They're so much stronger and bigger than me."_

_"Well, I'd like for you to able to fight back someday. Do you want to learn how?"_

_"Yes, sir!"_

_"I can teach you a few lessons called the Ninja Juhakkei," Kyai suggested. "But you would have to stay with me for five years, like my other students."_

_"I would, sir. I can't endure another minute with my brothers."_

_"Well, then. You can stay with me, but I would have to get consent from your parents."_

_"Most definitely, Mr. Kyai, sir!"_

_Spade's parents agreed to let their son stay with Kyai for five years. Norman and Jason threatened to hurt him when the five years were up. Spade whispered to them:_

_You'll be sorry._

_FIVE YEARS LATER:_

_Spade had learned eleven of the eighteen Ninja Juhakkei or Ninjitsu Skills while staying with Kyai, those being: _

_kenjutsu- the art of sword-fighting_

_bojutsu, the art of staff fighting_

_Taijutsu- hand to hand fighting _

_Shinobi-iri- stealth and means of entering_

_shurikenjutsu- the art of throwing blades_

_choho- spying_

_boryaku- military strategy_

_intonjutsu- escape and camouflaging._

_kusarigamajutsu- the art of kusarigama fighting_

_kayakujutsu- working with explosives_

_intonjutsu- escape and concealment _

_The future Snypa came home at the age of 15 with his bags. He went into his room when Norman and Jason came in behind him._

_"Didn't we tell you that if you came back home, we were going to hurt you?" Norman threatened._

_"Yeah," Jason agreed. "We were gonna do some bad things to you!"_

_Damijin turned his back to them and made it look like he was going in his bag. Jason pulled out a switchblade._

_"What you reachin' for?" said Jason, spinning his younger brother around._

_The room was silent except for a crack and then Jason's scream as he held his wrist in pain. Norman looked at Damjin as he retracted his hand and set his foot back on the ground._

_"You little--"_

_Damjin dropped and grabbed Norman around the legs in a takedown and sent him into the wall. Norman got back up as Damijin reached into his bag and quickly tossed a long needle at his other brother that connected with his hand. Norman screamed in pain, too. He looked up at his brother in fear._

_"You're a monster!" Norman screamed._

_Jason got up though his wrist was broken and tried to throw a hook with his other hand. Damijin ducked and kicked him in the knees with both feet. As Jason fell to the ground, Damijin got his sword out of his bag and drew it._

_"Your days of tormenting me are over," said the little brother. "I will not live in this house in fear of my own brothers, even if they do hate me for not being one of them!" _

_Spade left his room and went in Jason's to go play video games._

**A/N: I will resume the story in the next chapter, but for now...I decided to give a hint as to what the Snypa's background is.**


	4. Shattered Diamonds

KA-RUNCH! BANG! Spade's meditation was interrupted by the sound of a door being kicked in and the sounds of marching up some stairs. Spade stood up and ran to a drawer he pulled a .357 Magnum out. Then he heard the screams of the couple that lived a few doors.

"Mr. Bernan says you're a bit late on your payments, folks!"

Spade looked through his peephole and saw a bunch of enforcers dressed in black dragging the old couple out against their will. Spade opened the door and witnessed the events. One of the enforcers saw him and walked over to him.

"If you know what's good for you, dude...you'll go back inside and forget this ever happened."

The enforcer poked Spade as he threatened. Spade said nothing and drew his pistol, pointing it at the guy's head and pulling the trigger. His associates turned and pulled out their weapons: stun batons. Stun batons against a revolver? Fools. Spade took down the six stooges except for one. He wounded him in the leg.

"I heard you mention Bernan's name," growled Spade, picking the thug up. "Where is he?"

"I don't know any Bernan," replied the thug with defiance. "So eat shit and die!"

"Is that right?" replied Spade, putting the Magnum to the thug's head. "Then you're no use alive!"

"Wait, please!"

"You got something to say now?"

"Yeah! Bernan lives in East LA! Right now, there's gonna be a grand opening of his casino!"

"What's it called?" growled Spade.

"Screw you, man! I'm not sayin' shit!"

"The name of the casino, if you please." said Spade with a lack of patience, putting pressure on the trigger.

"The Diamond! The Diamond! The casino that's downtown!"

"Thanks."

With that, Spade pulled the trigger and left the enforcer's brains all over the wall. He walked back into his apartment and grabbed a duffle bag, trench coat, and his motorcycle keys, then walked out.

Spade headed to the warehouse he hid his bike and some of his weapons. He opened a crate and grabbed twin Berettas and put an M-16 into his back holster, along with a few throwing knives. He got on his bike and took off toward the Diamond. The grand opening was not for another six hours, so Spade figured he could add some 'fireworks' to the festivities. He went to the security floor of the casino and rigged motion-activated explosives just in case the guards needed backup. Six hours later, the grand opening began. As gamblers came in to test their luck, gunfire rang out. Panic emerged as people ran and tried to take cover. Spade, who was dressed in a tuxedo instead of his Snypa gear, ducked in with his bag and began to throw the pipe bombs from out of the bag. Shrapnel and metal slugs sprayed all over the place, hitting random people and taking them down. Spade popped up with his Berettas and began to pick off the guards. From the security room came more guards, armed to the teeth with AK-47's. Unfortunately, they were running past Spade's trap and a loud explosion could be heard. Spade looked at the smoke billowing from the corridor above him and smiled. Then he ran out of the casino, but not before detonating the entire bag of pipe bombs and throwing them on a poker table in the middle of the casino itself. Before mounting his motorcycle and moving on for the night, Spade left a note on Bernan's limo:

_I know who you are and what you did. And I am coming for you._

_Signed,_

_The Snypa_

On his way back from the Diamond casino, Spade saw three men in an alley and heard a woman screaming. These sickos were the ones that pissed him off the most because the law did very little about it. Spade got off his bike and advanced into the alley, with two knives drawn. He heard the three gangbangers run their mouths:

"What's up, baby?"

"Why you runnin' when you know you want us?"

"Don't you like guys?"

Then two of the perverts began to unzip their pants while the third held the woman with a knife to her throat.

"Please, don't do this! What do you want with me?" the woman screamed.

Spade stepped into the alley, looking around. The woman saw him and screamed. "HELP ME, PLEASE!"

"Shut it!" the knife guy hissed, then he looked up at Spade. "Who the hell are you?!"

The other two thugs turned around and pulled out knives, too. Spade took his trenchcoat and suit jacket off.

"Now, shouldn't you guys have more respect for women than that?" said Spade, clenching his teeth.

"Who are you supposed to be, a gentleman or something?"

"Well..." Spade started, walking toward the thugs and victimized lady.

"Hey, hold it right there, pal!" said pervert #1, grabbing Spade by his shoulder.

Spade responded by putting his knife in the guy's arm where it bent, then quickly pulling it out and jabbing it through his throat. The other thug tried to slash Spade, who ducked and put his own knife where the guy's genitalia would be. Spade took the thug's knife and tossed it at the original knife guy's shoulder. The vigilante retracted his blade from where Pevert #2's genitals once were and walked over to the knife guy, who was cursing.

"I know who you are, asshole! You're that killer! Nobody can use blades like him!"

"Yeah, I am. Too bad no one's gonna hear it from you, because no one can shoot like that guy, either."

Spade pulled out a Beretta and put it to the knife-wielder's head, then fired. He walked back to his bike when the woman walked over to him.

"God bless you, whoever you are!" the woman said. "Thank you!"

"Don't worry about it," Spade replied. "There will always be sons of bitches like that."

Spade started his bike up and took off, his mind on Bernan.


	5. Harboring Drugs and Guns

That night, crime lord Lee Bernan was in his office.

"ARGGH! What the hell happened?!" Bernan screamed at his men, punching a hole in the wall. "You let some prick who calls himself the Snypa blow up my casino and kill my security?!"

Bernan's bodyguards exchanged glances. The boss pressed a button on his intercom.

"Blackclub, get your ass in here!"

Marcus "Blackclub" Wilson walked into Bernan's office. "Yeah, Lee?"

"You're my lieutenant and supposed to be overseeing the Diamond, yes?" Bernan demanded.

"Yeah," Blackclub replied.

"Then _how the hell did __this__ happen_?!" Bernan roared, showing Blackclub security footage of an unknown man in a tuxedo and opening fire, followed by explosions above the casino itself.

"I-I-I-I don't know, man," Blackclub stuttered. "We couldn't determine--"

"Well, determine this!" yelled Bernan. "If there's an assault on anything that has to do with the name Bernan...I want you to blow the piss out of this asshole! Now get the hell out!"

Later that night, Spade rode down to some docks where he heard from some thugs no longer living that Bernan's hired street gang, the Silver Dukes, were shipping out weapons and drugs to other countries. This would be a demolition job. Spade opened the seat of his bike and pulled out his M-4 grenade attachment to his M-16 and hid above some thick brush behind a palm tree. When he was sure that no one would see him, Spade fired three grenades on the dock, clearing out some of the thugs as well as destroying some of the drugs and weapons. He took cover behind the palm tree again as some of the surviving Dukes pulled out .22's and opened fire toward where the grenades came from. Spade ran through the brush and fired his M-16, forcing the Silver Dukes to hide behind what was left of crates and other large things. Spade flanked the street gang and loaded the grenade launcher with frag grenades, then fired one more time. That was all it took to finish off the guys at the docks, except for the leader of the Silver Dukes. He managed to get away. When the coast was clear, Spade walked to his bike and grabbed the bag of pipe bombs that were left and detonated them all over the dock, destroying it completely and sending the contraband underwater. 


	6. Hunters Become Hunted

**A/N: All the weapons that the Snypa uses in this story, I will list them at the end and give a description. Oh, yeah. The Punisher uses 1911 Colts as his sidearm, the Snypa uses Berettas or Desert Eagles.**

Once more, Bernan was pissed.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?! YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THAT HE BLEW UP THE ENTIRE DOCK FILLED WITH _MY_ WEAPONS AND _MY_ DRUGS?!"

The leader of the Silver Dukes, Boxer- he stood before Bernan and shook his head. Bernan turned to him. Boxer was a medium-sized Latino man with dyed green hair, wearing silver denim and a black bandanna was tied around his head.

"Boxer, you take your boys, go find the Snypa, and then you kill him!" exclaimed Bernan. "If you manage to not screw _that_ up, I'll reward you all handsomely. Anything you want."

"No problem, Lee."

Just then, a tall, slender young man with blonde dreads came in Bernan's office loading a .357 Colt Diamondback.

"Dad, so Boxer doesn't fuck up, I wanna go with him."

"Jackson, you know how I feel about you getting involved in this."

"Ever since Mom died..."

Boxer looked at Jackson and back at Bernan. "Let the kid go. I'll make sure he doesn't get hurt."

Bernan thought about and agreed. But when Jackson left, the room- Bernan pulled Boxer to the side.

"You better make sure nothing happens to him. That's all I ask for, Boxer."

"I'll take care of him," agreed Boxer.

"Nothing better happen. I'm the one who took you in after your father sacrificed himself to save us. Now what would _he_ think if something happened to _you_?"

Boxer turned and walked away, pulling out a cell phone and dialing it.

Later, Boxer and his gang were out in the streets, looking for any information they could get on the Snypa from innocents.

Meanwhile, Spade was trying to get information from lowlifes who knew nothing. Then he saw a blue pickup coming down the street and heard a bunch of yelling. The truck was coming awfully fast, so Spade stepped into the middle of the street and pulled out his Beretta M12. The truck would not stop so the masked vigilante fired into the windshield repeatedly, blinding the driver's sight and then forcing the truck to overturn and explode. Jackson crawled out of the truck and hid behind a car. Meanwhile Boxer had dove out of the truck when Spade had started shooting. He saw Boxer get up and run. Spade fired, hitting him in the leg. He walked over to him, slowly.

"Now, let's see what _you_ know!"

Spade put the gun to Boxer's head.

"Tell me," said Spade. "What do you know about Lee Bernan?"

Boxer moaned in pain. "He's a rich stiff."

Spade put his foot on the bullet wound in Boxer's leg and pressed hard.

"Wanna try that again? I know about you Silver Dukes."

"I don't know shit!" Boxer screamed.

Excruciating pain from Spade's boot came when Boxer did not provide the right answer.

"Okay, okay! Bernan's got drug deals out the ass all over Los Angeles!"

Spade thanked Boxer for his info by wrapping each of his legs up in chains and hooking them to the back of his truck. Then he got in and started up the ignition and advanced to Bernan Manor, where he dumped the leader of the Silver Dukes onto the front lawn and pulled off. Some of Bernan's men helped Boxer up and dragged him to their boss' office, where Blackclub was waiting.

"So, what happened?" asked Blackclub, looking at the wound in Boxer's leg.

"The Snypa...he saw us first."

"And what about Jackson?"

"Jackson's...dead. I give my condolences."

Just then, a dusty and injured Jackson walked in pissed off.

Boxer turned around and saw an angry Jackson.

"You lie!" Jackson screamed. "You left us in that truck to die!"

Blackclub turned to the other Bernan soldiers and slightly nodded his head. They began to rough up the leader of the Silver Dukes when Bernan walked in and saw his son, then turned to Boxer.

"Boxer?" Bernan began calmly. "Remember what I said? I asked you 'what would your father think if he were still here'- you remember that?"

"I didn't know Jackson had got out alive, really!"

Blackclub handed Bernan his .357 Magnum. Bernan slowly cocked and then pulled the trigger, the bullet hitting Boxer right between the eyes. Then he motioned for his men to dispose of the body.


	7. Business Offer in Blood

Spade made it back home, when he saw a teenage girl that lived across the hall from him standing outside. When he walked past her, she said something to him.

"You know, I've been trying to figure out who you are and I finally did. You're Damijin Spade." she said.

"I _was_ Damijin Spade," replied Spade. "But I don't know who the hell I am anymore."

"Well, I heard about your sons and I'm really sorry to hear that."

"Not your fault," replied Spade. "I got over it those 8 months ago."

"Well, my name's Kretel and I live down and across the hall with my big brother Mike. He sees you come in when he gets home from work."

Spade continued inside and dropped his bag to the floor, then walked over to his bench press and started lifting weights. Each rep gave him a flashback to his old life as a cop- when his SWAT teammates died during the drug bust that changed his life forever:

_The sound of guns being cocked as their leader gave the signal. Spade rushing on ahead without orders._

_"Dami, what are you doing?! Get back here!" the leader hissed._

_"I can handle this, Andre."_

_Spade moving to the front of the warehouse. His team catching up with him after him throwing in three flashbangs and opening fire. Spade had shot down some of the dealers and gunmen as Andre and the team ran into thugs carrying AK-103s and chemical grenades that slaughtered Spade's team. The screams echoed forever in Spade's head. Each gunshot that took the life of each of his teammates affected Spade's psyche._

Spade sat on the couch and turned on the TV. He turned to the news and saw some reporters in front of the Diamond casino:

_"...in other news, there was an attack on the Diamond, a casino owned by entrepeneur Leonard Bernan. Bernan had this to say:"_

_Bernan: "We don't know who is behind this attack, but our defenders and upholders of the law will find him or her and make casinos everywhere safe for our spending customers."_

Spade turned the TV off and scoffed, then went outside and to the warehouse where his motorcycle was.

"A crime lord who gives a fuck about the people? What a joke."

Spade was just getting out of his truck and going back inside when he came home from his bank when he saw a black limo in front of his apartment complex. Stepping out of the limo were three guys in black suits. One blocked Spade's path. A fourth man, this one wearing sunglasses walked toward Spade, who was looking around.

"Mr. Spade, I'm Marcus Wilson. My..._supervisor_ has a business proposition for you and he'd like for you to come with us," the man finally said.

"Just who is this employer of yours?" asked Spade.

"You'll meet him _soon_. Now...if you please." Wilson said a little more forcefully.

Spade realized he had no choice because two of the three men that accompinied this Marcus Wilson had their hands in their suitcoats, reaching for something. He stepped into the limo, wondering where its destination was. Finally, the limo stopped at a warehouse and the occupants got out and stepped inside. Spade asked Wilson (Blackclub) about his employer. Blackclub got on a walkie-talkie and let whoever it was on the other end know they had arrived.

"That's fine," said the mysterious voice.

"Mr. Spade. I'm sure you're aware of who my boss is since I know what you really do. The only thing is, he doesn't know who you are," said Blackclub. "But I'm _very_ aware of the work you're into. Still shooting first and asking questions."

"Your point is?" demanded Spade.

Blackclub grabbed Spade by his shirt with one hand and pulled out a switchblade with the other.

"My point, you fucking prick, is that I want you to join forces with us and end this tirade of killing and revenge! Join us and you can have anything you want."

Spade looked like he was thinking about it, but then he grabbed Blackclub's wrist and twisted it-forcing him to drop the knife. The vigilante ducked and took down Bernan's general with his own legs wrapped around his.

"Nah! You can tell your boss that I'm coming for him after what he did!" the vigilante screamed, diving over a crate filled with guns and kicking them in. He pulled two HK-5s loaded with armor-piercing bullets and fired, dropping Blackclub's three bodyguards and sending him running away and hopping in the limo.

Meanwhile, Bernan was in a meeting with a man in a white suit and matching cowboy hat. Minutes later, Blackclub came stumbling in. Bernan became enraged.

"_What the hell is the matter with you, Blackclub?! Can't you fucking see I'm in a meeting_?!"

"I'm sorry, Lee, but we got a major problem. The Snypa refused our offer."

"Well, no shit. That's why I'm going to my backup plan," replied Bernan. "Here he is. Blackclub, this is Marksmaster and vice versa."

Blackclub looked at the man in the white suit and his long flowing brown hair, along with his mustache that looked like it hadn't been shaved in a week. He spoke with a British accent and had a gravelly voice.

"Greetings, mate. I'm the new exterminator."


	8. Drugs and British Thugs

Blackclub looked Marksmaster up and down.

"So, you've been called here to help us? One favor- stay out of our way," Blackclub sneered.

"Blackclub, our new friend from the United Kingdom is going to do something your Silver Dukes failed at," said Bernan. "That's killing the Snypa. But no more, watch this."

Markmaster took out some thumbtacks and threw them at one of Bernan's unsuspecting guards. He dropped instantly. Bernan approved with applause. Blackclub was impressed, too.

"Yeah," agreed Marksmaster. "I can handle this Snypa problem for you, free of charge."

Spade was out one night at a park. He witnessed a gang fight and got involved. Now both gangs were shooting at _him_. Spade drew his customized battle shotgun, which was a Benelli M4 Super 90 with Mossberg Maverick laser sighting and the barrel customized for wide-spread and long range fire. He shot, cleaning up scum. It came down to him facing two rival gang members. They both had Mossbergs, the barrels shortened for sawed-off action. Spade felt sorry for them as he fired the Benneli, spreading their bodies out on the ground.

A punk who had been hiding from the fight the whole time came out, revolver in his hand. He took off running the other way as Spade turned to him. Spade counted down from five silently before pulling the trigger, the buckshot of the 12 gauge combat shotgun sweeping the punk's existence from the world.

Later that night, when Spade was reading his newspaper- he heard a pounding at the door. He answered. It was Kretel. He looked down and saw she had a Glock 30 in her hand.

"What's going on?" asked Spade.

"My brother- he's dangerous!" Kretel screamed.

"Wait a minute. What are you talking about?"

"I saw him...let me tell you from the beginning."

Kretel was sleeping when she smelled something cooking. This had occured multiple times, but thought nothing of it. Maybe Mike was fixing something for himself to eat. Then one evening, she woke up and wanted to see what he was cooking. She saw ingredients for something she didn't know about on the kitchen table.(It was ingredients for heroin.) Then she saw people at the back door and her brother giving them bags of powder and taking money.

"He's a...drug dealer." Kretel squeaked.

"Sis!" Mike called.

Kretel ran back to her room as fast as she could and ducked under the covers. Mike quietly opened his sister's door and woke her up.

"Just wanted to let you know that I'm home from work," he said, pulling out a wad of cash. "Looks like I made enough money to get that diamond."

"I'm so happy for you, Mike!" Kretel squeaked, then laid back down.

As Mike left the room, a bag of his heroin fell out of his jacket pocket. Kretel picked it up.

"Is this what I think it is?"

"What _do_ you think it is?"

"Are you dealing drugs?" asked Kretel.

Mike said nothing.

"You're doing something wrong to make a living? I can't allow it."

Then Mike got angry and pulled out a knife.

"Sorry, sis," Mike whispered, his head down. "I love you, but you can't ruin this for me."

Kretel looked at him and saw his hand move behind him and return with a switchblade. Then she busted out of the room and ran down the steps, Mike slowly following her.

"You can't run from me!"

Kretel spotted the dresser containing Mike's Glock 30 and grabbed it before running out of the apartment to Spade's door.

"So that's what happened?" Spade inquired.

"Yeah..."

Spade went to open his door when he heard a knock. It was Mike.

"And you are?"

"Have you seen my sister?" asked Mike, out of breath.

"I have," replied Spade, his fist cocking back and hitting Mike in the nose. "Kretel, stay behind me!"

Mike whipped his knife out. Spade charged him and got the knife out of his hands. Mike got to his feet and ran away, Spade on his heels. Once outside, a kunai whizzed through the air and hit the ground but had passed through Mike's neck first. Spade looked around and saw an arrow headed for him. He was able to dodge it. A gravelly British accent filled the darkness of the night.

"So, you're the Snypa that Bernan complained about."

"Who the hell are you?" demanded Spade to the void darkness.

"Bloody hell, son. You may not know _me_, but I know _you_." the voice taunted.

Another kunai was making a beeline for Spade, who picked up Mike's switchblade and threw it in the path of the blade, deflecting it.

"Again, who the hell are you?!" Spade demanded.


	9. Horror at the Hotel!

"How can I be so damn rude?" said the voice, who would finally introduce itself. "The name's Marksmaster. I _never_ miss."

"Yeah? Well, if you never miss, then show yourself!" Spade screamed.

"I will, mate," taunted Marksmaster. "In due time, bloke. But that's all for now. _Ciao_."

Spade spent another hour of dodging kunai blades from every direction before it stopped altogether.

Light shined in, awaking Spade. He looked through the titanium cover of the truck's windows and saw sunlight creeping in through the cracks. He grabbed his pump-action from between the seats, raised the sliding cover, and opened the door. He stepped out and aimed the gun in all directions, looking for attackers. Then he heard the sound of a pistol being cocked. He spun around.

"It's your fault my brother died," said Kretel, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Now it's _your_ time to die, Damijin."

"This was not my fault. If I could have saved your brother, I gladly would have," said Spade, lowering his shotgun and taking a step toward Kretel.

Kretel pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. The gun was empty. Spade took away the gun as Kretel fell to her knees and cried.

Two days later, Spade stood in the shadows as Kretel watched her brother get lowered into his grave. He turned and put on his sunglasses as he walked to his motorcycle.

Bernan was looking in the mirror, straightening his bowtie.

"Blackclub, he'll be there tonight," said Bernan.

"Who, the Snypa?"

"No, your dad!" Bernan snapped. "Fucking idiot."

One of Bernan's men walked in.

"Mr. Bernan, the men are ready, sir."

"Thank you," Bernan replied. "Okay, let's go!"

As they left, Bernan's men did a sweep to make sure there was no Snypa around.

"No sign of him. It's clear."

Bernan, Jackson, and Blackclub stepped out of the mansion and into a limousine. Bernan and Blackclub started up a conversation about Marksmaster.

"Has he called?" Bernan asked.

"No, not yet," Blackclub responded, a little jealous. "But he told me that he'd be among the people there."

"Good! I don't want the man who will be responsible for the Snypa's downfall to stick out like a sore thumb."

"Not to be nosy, Lee...but you haven't explained why we're going to the Royal Crown."

"I know I haven't." Bernan snapped. "But I will. My soon to be late friend Damon Masters, wrote out a will saying that if he should die..."

"What happens?" asked Blackclub with excitement.

"...if he should die, then _I_ would gain one hundred percent control of all his establishments."

"Such as...?"

"No one knows this, but Damon controls the California drug and contraband weapon trade," said Bernan. "So if he died, I would control that, too. And believe me, Blackclub...I _want_ that power."

Bernan's cell phone rang. It was Marksmaster:

"Lee, I'm here."

"Good. Keep Masters in your sight," Bernan replied. "And if the Snypa shows up...you know what to do."

"Got it. Out."

Spade leaned on his bike's throttle, toward the Royal Crown Hotel. As he got close, he turned on his radio and headset. There was news on Bernan: he was going to meet with Damon Masters for a press conference. When Spade was within range of the hotel, he made a turn into an alley. He got off his bike and climbed up a fire escape onto a roof of a building across the street from the Royal Crown. Spade pulled out some binoculars and was able to see the press conference about to begin.

Meanwhile, as Spade got ready to strike...Marksmaster was among the crowd. Tonight's killing method of choice: slingshot. Don't be fooled. The projectiles were mini balls with protuding spikes.

The conference began. A bunch of reporters with overlapping questions, the usual. Then one young reporter finally got to ask his question after three hours of him being overlooked.

"What's the reason for all of this?"

Damon Masters, a slender man in a suit, stepped up to the podium.

"In less than two weeks, a new, more formidable company shall be formed. It is...the Master Crown!"

Just in that instant, Masters was seen holding his throat as blood ran out from his mouth and he dropped to the ground. Someone screamed and everyone ran for the exits in a panic. Spade saw everything, from Marksmaster retracting the slingshot to him clearing out of the room and running through the halls, but ended up being stopped in his tracks when Spade got across on a zip line, crashed through the window and tackled him.

"I see you finally caught up to me," said Marksmaster. "Glad to meet you, Snypa."

"You wanted me, you got me!" said Spade, his battle rifle aimed at Marksmaster.

"Yeah, but now you're dead!"

Marksmaster advanced and kicked Spade's weapon out of his hands, then followed up with another kick.

"You're pretty fast, man," complimented Spade.

"Thanks, mate!"

Marksmaster turned and went for Spade's weapon. Spade countered by tossing a _hari-gata_ bo shuriken that missed and got his gun back. Spade opened fire. The deadly hitman's speed kicked in again. He threw one of his kunai that missed and a second one that connected with Spade's leg. The vigilante yelled in pain.

"Hurts, don't it?" Marksmaster chuckled.

"It's nothing." Spade replied. "Now I really wanna kill you!"

"Not if I kill you first!" Marksmaster yelled, charging his enemy.

He landed a reverse roundhouse kick that sent Spade out of the 6th story window...


	10. Celebrations in Order

**And we're back! And now, **_**Celebrations in Order.**_

...as Spade was falling to his doom, his mind flashed back to when he stood at the graves of his sons, before he became the Snypa:

_I failed to save my boys, as I failed to save my comrades. But if I failed as a father, a husband, and a cop, then maybe I'll be able to successfully protect others, but not as Damijin Spade. Damijin Spade was a failure at defending others. Damijin Spade died when his sons were slain. Damijin Spade died when he didn't follow orders as a police officer. Lee Bernan killed his existence, along with his children. But he did not kill the darkness. Lee Bernan didn't kill the rage. What he did do was resurrect was my hatred of this diseased town. He brought back the spirit of the man who delivered _true_ justice, the justice that criminals __**truly**__ deserved. Lee Bernan resurrected a man, a new man. But this man is not Damijin Spade…no, not Damijin Spade…a man whose existence faded when he lost what he loved most. No. From this moment on, I am no longer Damijin Spade…I am the black angel that will sweep the evil named Lee Bernan from this world…_

Just as Spade was falling to his death, his mind snapped back into the real world and he reached out to grab a flagpole and slide all the way down safely. The last 2 feet of the pole he slid weren't so smooth, he fell to the street. He crawled to a sidewalk, where he got the kunai blade out of his leg.

"Damn it! I let him get the best of me!" Spade yelled in rage.

He limped toward the alley where his motorcycle was. He mounted his bike and rode back toward his hideout, but along the way, he crashed. He pressed a button on the inside of his trenchcoat that lit up red. Minutes later, Spade's black truck came speeding down the street and stopped short of hitting him. The truck turned around and automatically let out a ramp. Spade staggered to his feet and pushed the bike on the back of the truck and limped inside, collapsing on the seat. The truck drove itself back to the warehouse. Spade exited the truck and stumbled into the building and up to his apartment. He fell to the floor. From across the street, Kretel ran to the apartment building and ran upstairs. She saw Spade on the floor and saw his wound. She dragged him to the couch and grabbed a needle and thread to stitch the wound up, but Spade grabbed it and did it himself.

"Damijin, what happened?" Kretel asked.

"Don't worry," answered Spade. "I'll be okay."

Back at Bernan's place, the crime lord and his thugs were celebrating the 'fall' of the Snypa. Bernan raised a glass in a toast.

"I would like for you all to join me in a toast," said Bernan.

The thugs raised their glasses.

"I would like to dedicate this toast to fallen comrades and to the Snypa's defeat!"

"TO THE SNYPA'S DEFEAT!"

Bernan continued, "We no longer have to worry about him, thanks to this man!"

Turning to Marksmaster, he said- "Thank you."

Marksmaster looked back at Bernan.

"I didn't do it for you, you pathetic bastard!"

Bernan's expression suddenly changed. "What?"

Marksmaster continued. "You heard me, you fucking cunt. _I'm_ the one who fought the Snypa, but unlike those miserable toe-rags you call a 'gang,' _I_ _was_ _able_ to kill him."

Blackclub looked on in disgust as the British hit man walked away. He stood up and followed him, turning off his sidearm's safety.

As Marksmaster was about to leave, he heard the sound of a gun being cocked. A nine millimeter Glock. He didn't turn around.

"The angry right-hand man," sighed the Marksmaster. "I suppose you want to kill me for all those things I said, huh?"

Blackclub kept his gun steady. "Someone as big an ingrate as you doesn't deserve to live. Lee paid for your flight and helped you get weaponry and this is how you thank him?!"

Marksmaster sighed before finally turning around.

"But don't worry your ugly British head, son," Blackclub snarled before emptying his weapon, throwing it to the side, and getting into a fighting stance. "Your death won't come by a firearm; it'll be be my own two hands."

Spade was in his warehouse gathering weapons to use. Kretel looked on.

"Damijin, please don't do this," Kretel pleaded. "Do you _want_ to die?"

"Far as they know, I'm already dead." Spade replied.

He said nothing else before grabbing his trench coat and sword after loading his equipment into his truck.


	11. Dissension Among the Ranks

**Author's Note: Sorry for the short chapter, but it's gonna be a one-sided fight.**

The fight between Marksmaster and Blackclub began. Bernan's general charged the hired gun, who was faster. Marksmaster dodged away, kicked Blackclub, and stepped back before removing his cowboy hat. Blackclub prepared himself for the hitman's next attack. Their fists collided with each other as they blocked each other's kicks.

"Hey, Blackclub..." Marksmaster began.

"What?"

Marksmaster caught Blackclub with a sweep kick and followed up with a choke hold when the general fell.

"You know you can't win, right?"

"Screw you!" yelled Blackclub, who broke the hold and whipped out his switchblade.

He got to his feet and moved at Marksmaster, slashing wildly.

"I think it's time to end this party." laughed Marksmaster.

He kicked Blackclub in the face and followed up with a crescent kick this time, knocking the blade out of his hands and picking the weapon up himself. Blackclub dodged one of the hit man's swipes and tried to counter with a punch, but Marksmaster was too fast. He grabbed Blackclub's wrist and shoved the blade in his throat.

"You lose, Blackclub!" screamed Marksmaster in victory before opening the door and leaving.


	12. The Snyper vs The Assassin

Spade was in his truck accelerating toward Bernan's mansion for a full assault against the crime lord. Then he heard some sirens, and saw he was being followed by the police. On a loud speaker was one officer:

"Pull over, Snypa! It's over, now surrender peacefully!"

Spade's response: firing a series of smoke grenades at the squadrons of cop cars.

The cops' response: "Fire at will!"

The sounds of automatic weapons filled the night air. Spade pulled out his sliding armor plates, which were protecting him. The cops continued firing. Their bullets hit their mark, but showed no signs of penetrating. Spade stopped and hit a half U-turn, his door facing police. The cops quit shooting.

"Maybe he _is_ gonna surrender," one officer suggested.

Spade lifted the plate covering that door, which had been shot out. Out of the window came three more smoke grenades, followed by the angry gunman pulling off.

Bernan's was watching the news. There was a news chopper following a black truck. He was hearing things about the Snypa.

"Blackclub!" Bernan called. No answer. "Where are you, 'Club?"

Bernan walked into his hall and found someone on the ground with a knife in his throat. He knew whose work it was.

"Marksmaster, that bastard," Bernan muttered.

"Hey, Lee," Marksmaster hissed from behind Bernan. "Sorry about that."

He held Jackson in front of him, a knife to his throat.

"Pop, help me!" Jackson cried.

Bernan reached in his back pocket and pulled a pistol of his own out, pointing it at Marksmaster.

"Let him go, Marksmaster. That's my son!" Bernan yelled. "What do you want?"

"The Snypa. He's alive. I want him."

Then the door exploded in splinters. There was the Snypa, mask and all as he set his foot back on the ground. He had a Desert Eagle pointed at Bernan.

"Don't worry, Marksmaster," Spade growled. "I'm right here."

"Let's go, pretty boy!" Marksmaster roared, releasing Jackson and sliding down a banister. He pulled out a pair of knives.

"Hand to hand!" Spade agreed, putting away his gun.

He blocked one of Marksmaster's kicks and connected with one of his own. Their fight spilled outside like water from a bottle. There were punches, kicks, and throws being exchanged and countered.

"If you weren't Bernan's bitch, maybe we could be friends. You're a damn good fighter," Spade complimented. "But it's a shame you have to die."

"Who says I still work for him?" Marksmaster sneered.

He pulled out two _biao_ bo shuriken and tossed them at Bernan's knees, forcing the crime boss down to the ground in pain.

"Now, mate, let's continue our fun!"

"Why not?" Spade agreed, returning to his fighitng stance.

The fight restarted as their moves were like colliding trains. As the battle went on, their loss of endurance began to show. The two combatants could not dodge the other. Both men struggled to get up, but refused to surrender to the other.

_I can't give up. I won't lose to him! _Marksmaster thought.

_There is no surrender, no quitting, _Spade was thinking.

_He is..._

_He is..._

_"__**You are my enemy!**__"_ both men yelled. _"__**And I will defeat you!**__"_

Fueled by the thoughts of a potential victory, both men rose to their feet and got into their respective fighting stances. Marksmaster drew his twin knives. Spade his sword. Then the vigilante and the hit man charged each other, their metal of their weapons clashing. Marksmaster raised his knives and tried to bring them down on Spade, who raised his sword to block and landed a sweep kick. Marksmaster got to his feet again, refusing to be denied this kill.

"I know you're stronger than this, Marksmaster," Spade said. "Better give it all you got or it'll be too late."

"True. So how do you like this?" Marksmaster asked, backing off and throwing one of the knives that Spade deflected with his sword.

Then a shot was fired in the air as Marksmaster charged. The two looked and saw an angry Jackson.


	13. Street Justice Served

An angry Jackson began to rant, holding a .357 Magnum. "You know, it's bad enough that the Snypa disrespected the Bernan family by rejecting our offer...but this--_this_ is uncalled for, Marksmaster!"

Spade and Marksmaster looked at each other and looked back at Jackson, who pointed as his injured father.

"You know what?!" Jackson demanded. "You two bastards are gonna seriously pay! Damn you both to hell!"

As Jackson screamed, he continued to point at his injured father. Then he took aim at the two killers.

"Snypa, do you want to do it or should I?" asked Marksmaster.

"It's okay, I'll do it," replied Spade, unholstering his sawed-off shotgun. "Shut the hell up!"

Jackson fell back, his chest blown out and a river of blood running out.

"That'll teach you to get involved in a scrap that's not yours!" Marksmaster yelled. Then he felt a sharp pain in the side of his head. Spade had landed a clean and perfect kick.

"That should keep you down until I come back," Spade claimed. "I got business to take care of."

He marched toward Bernan, shotgun in hand. Bernan was on all fours trying to crawl away.

"Lee Bernan."

Bernan began to try to get to his feet.

"LEONARD BERNAN!" Spade repeated, this time with rage.

_"You!"_ Bernan gasped, finally seeing the face behind the Snypa's mask. "You're that cop! Damijin Spade!"

"You killed my sons, you piece of shit..."

"You've no room to talk, Snypa." Bernan sneered. "You just killed my only son. You're no better than I am."

"Is that so?!" Spade demanded. "What about all the innocent people that you have shown no mercy to just to get what the hell you want, you selfish..."

There wasn't a single word in the English dictionary that Spade used that could accurately describe Bernan and his violent, murderous lust and actions, so he cocked his shotgun. Bernan smiled and pulled a nine millimeter Smith and Wesson out, pointing it at Spade.

"Go ahead, kill me! Let me join my son!" Bernan requested.

Spade thought about it for a minute.

"No. I've killed enough people to get to you, Lee Bernan," Spade said. "But I will show that I am different than you and every piece of fucking shit like you."

"How?" Bernan demanded.

Spade said nothing.

"ANSWER ME!"

"I'm going to let you live, Bernan. But I'm gonna let you live like me. Live with the knowledge that you were helpless. That you were helpless to realize that your money, power, and influence could do nothing to save your son's life."

"Then I'll do it myself!" Bernan yelled, putting the gun to his head. But before he could pull the trigger, there was a loud bang and where his hand used to be, Bernan saw blood spout.

"I'll leave the rest to the cops. The cops who never tried to solve my sons' murder that _you_ were responsible for." Spade hissed, walking away.

Just then, Marksmaster was getting to his feet.


	14. The Snyper vs the Assassin 2

Marksmaster was shaking out the cobwebs.

"Took you long enough, Snypa. Not get ready...to _die_!"

"YOU FIRST!" Spade roared.

They charged each other and instead of using skill and wits, this fight became nothing more than a brawl. Punches were exchanged. There was nothing on either Marksmaster or Spade's minds except to win and survive.

"Hey, Snypa...I'm using my full power, now use _yours_!" Marksmaster yelled as he threw a punch that sent Spade reeling back. Spade took his trenchcoat and holsters off.

"Well, now that I got that off...let's go." replied Spade. "_Die_!"

He threw a roundhouse kick that sent his assassin opponent into a 360 spin and to the ground. At that time, Marksmaster decided to surrender.

"You are the better fighter, Snypa. You win."

Marksmaster extended his hand, but had other intentions. He had a kunai behind his back. Spade was about to shake his hand, when he saw quick movement from the hitman's left arm and dodged to the side. He had one last trick as well, in the form of what was an anti-personnel mine. Marksmaster had no time to react as the angry gunslinger detonated the mine and took cover. When the smoke cleared, all that you can see was charred grass and smoke where Marksmaster once was.

Spade picked up his jacket and holsters, but not his mask. He threw that on the spot were Marksmaster had disintegrated at. He went to drag the one-handed Bernan outside and went to the kitchen to cut the gas line behind the oven. He went outside to his truck, grabbing his customized battle rifle.

"Now I can destroy the dark memories and my sons can finally rest peacefully," Spade sighed.

He fired the grenade into the kitchen window as half the mansion crumbled from the power of Spade's customized grenades and then a gunshot. Spade fell down to the ground, clutching his leg in pain. When he looked up, he was staring up a beautiful Latina with blonde hair with green streaks.


	15. A Lover Scorned

Spade looked up at the Latina beauty, who pointed a Beretta at him.

"Dazia, why?"

"How are you, Damijin?" the Latin beauty asked. "I'm back."

Spade was staring at the woman he had wanted to some day marry. Sh glared back.

"You've gone soft, baby!" Dazia stated coldly. "And it was because of your weakness that guy right there killed our sons."

With that, Dazia turned her gun on Bernan and fired. The crime lord clutched his chest and said, "Thank you," as his final words. Spade looked up in shock.

"Why?! I wanted to make him suffer!" he roared.

"I'll save that honor for _you_, my love," Dazia whispered without remorse.

She cocked her weapon and just as she was about to pull the trigger on her ex, a pair of headlights coming at her. Spade used his good leg to kick his former lover's gun away. His truck hurled at them full speed and all he saw was the woman he once loved bounce off the hood and to the ground. When the motor cut off, the driver door opened and he saw Kretel behind the wheel.

"You owe me, Damijin!" Kretel exclaimed.

Spade climbed into the bunk as Kretel drove the truck to her house. Once inside, Kretel treated all of Spade's injuries. Once properly treated, he drifted into sleep. He dreamed of the eight months that led up to him becoming the Snypa.

The next morning, Spade finally woke up. The sun was shining in his eyes. He blinked his eyes twice and turned the TV on. There was news on Bernan:

"...In other news, entrepreneur Leonard Bernan's mansion was found destroyed, along with the bodies of twenty armed soldiers, along with the businessman's son Jackson. The crime lord in hiding had this statement sent to the police:

Bernan: I can't believe that someone would damage my home and murder my son. Whoever did this, I have a message for you: you will get hard justice and it will be without mercy.

...that is all from Mr. Bernan. More news at noon."

Spade stood up in shock and smashed the coffee table in front of him.

"WHAT THE HELL?! I SAW HIM DIE!!"

With that, Spade grabbed his customized Desert Eagle and walked out of the door. He headed to the warehouse behind the apartment complex and got into his truck, started up the engine and slammed through the closed entrance. He cut through dirt roads and got onto the street, looking to see any possible places Bernan could hide.

**Well, it looks like this story isn't over after all if Bernan is still alive.**


	16. Party at the Club!

Spade was out in the night once more. He drove to a gentleman's club owned by Blackclub- who was now no longer among the living. He pulled up in the parking lot. The doorman, who appeared to be at least near seven feet tall, stopped Spade at the door.

"Not so fast, Snypa!"

The hulking bouncer grabbed Spade by the wrist, which was a big mistake to make as the vigilante grabbed _his_ wrist in turn and pried his hand off, followed by a punch to the Adam's apple and sending him to his knees with a kick to the ribs, shattering them. More security came rushing as Spade waltzed in.

"Hey, asshole! You can't just walk in here thinking you're some kind of big shot!"  
"Watch me," replied Spade as he hit three of the bouncers with needle-like shuriken.

Two more security guards rushed Spade, who drew his sword and decapitated a bouncer, slashed another one's arm off and cut a third one off at the knees after ducking under his nightstick. Two more bouncers decided to come at Spade with a pair of tonfa. Spade patiently blocked their attacks and waited for an opening as he jumped onto the bar and went behind it, picking up bottles of alcoholic beverages and throwing them at the bouncers, who ducked and decided it was time for more heavy measures as they pulled out Berettas and began firing.

"Damn," said Spade. "And for once, I wanted to avoid a gunfight."

The vigilante pulled out his Desert Eagle, taking cover behind the bar as the bouncers blindly fired. Spade picked up a bottle of Alizé and hurled it from behind the bar at the guards, who decided to shoot the bottle when Spade popped up and shot the first bouncer in the head and arm. Spade walked the bar and onto the stage, where the dancers intelligently ran backstage, then drew one more D-Eagle and fired at the chandelier above the guard's head. He didn't see it until he turned to look at Spade- by then, it was too late.

Spade merrily continued his gun-toting quest upstairs to the new club owner's office. The door was protected by two more hulking bouncers, who were armed with Berettas as well.

"What is it with these guys and Berettas?!" Spade yelled at no one.

He ran back downstairs, jumping the steps three at a time with the gunmen chasing him. When they came back downstairs, he was waiting with a MAG-7 that he had customized. The bouncers were about to pull the trigger when one shot from Spade dropped both of them. The one-man gang walked up the stairs once more without opposition and kicked in the door and saw an older Latino-American man lying on his desk with a stripper riding him.

"Oh, yeah! Fuck me, Daddy! Fuck this pussy like it's never been--OH, MY GOD!!"

The Latino turned his head to look at the man holding a MAG 7 at his head. Spade looked at the stripper.

"Leave," he said without interest in her.

The girl did as she was told, pulling up her panties as quickly as she could and running out of the office. The club owner rolled off of his desk and went to pull something out of his drawer, but Spade stopped him with a shot through the desk to his shoulder. The club owner clutched his shoulder in pain. Spade threw him over the desk and flipped it on top of him.

"I'll only ask you once: where's Bernan?"

"Get the fuck out of my office or I'll fuckin' kill your ass, Snypa!" the man groaned through the pain of having a desk on his chest.

"You can tell me or you can explain it to this MAG-7 I got pointed at your head," Spade growled while standing on the desk.

The club owner spat at Spade, then gave up.

"I don't fucking know! No one's seen him since you blew up his goddamn house!"

"Wrong answer, fuckhead." Spade hissed, cocking the shotgun.

"Okay, okay! If anything, Bernan's escaped to a safe house somewhere in Asia because he knows you'll be hot on his ass if he stays in LA."

"Thanks, you little snitch."

"No problem," said the club owner. "Now let me go!"

"Actually, yes problem."

"Yes, problem?" asked the club owner, confused.

"I _can't_ let you go." said Spade, smiling behind his mask. "That would be a problem for me while I'm trying to find Bernan."

The next morning, people were looking at the second story of the strip club. They saw the Latino club owner hanging from the window with his tie wrapped around his neck like a makeshift noose. The police were there gathering evidence as Spade took a morning ride through that neighborhood on his motorcycle. A cop pointed at him.

"Spade!"


	17. A Story Untold

**Previously on **_**Faded Existence**_

-**The next morning, Spade finally woke up. The sun was shining in his eyes. He blinked his eyes twice and turned the TV on. There was news on Bernan:**

**"...In other news, entrepreneur Leonard Bernan's mansion was found destroyed, along with the bodies of twenty armed soldiers, along with the businessman's son Jackson. The crime lord in hiding had this statement sent to the police:**

**Bernan: I can't believe that someone would damage my home and murder my son. Whoever did this, I have a message for you: you will get hard justice and it will be without mercy.**

**...that is all from Mr. Bernan. More news at noon."**

**Spade stood up in shock and smashed the coffee table in front of him.**

**"WHAT THE HELL?! I SAW HIM DIE!!"**

**With that, Spade grabbed his customized Desert Eagle and walked out of the door. He headed to the warehouse behind the apartment complex and got into his truck, started up the engine and slammed through the closed entrance. He cut through dirt roads and got onto the street, looking to see any possible places Bernan could hide.**

"Spade?" the cop repeated. "You're alive?"

"Alive? What are you talking about?" asked Spade.

"The official report after you were discharged from the force was that you were killed by gangsters," the cop responded.

"Davis, what are you talking about?!"

"It all went like this," Davis responded.

What were in the police reports was:

Spade was playing catch with his sons, teaching them how to play baseball. They went inside to grab their bats when six thugs broke into the Spade home at the same time. They were in the right place at the wrong time. Spade heard the gunshots and came inside to see bullet holes in the cabinets. Spade turned into men with shotguns and took his life.

What really happened with Spade and his sons? Simple. Lee Bernan killed them. And the story goes like this:

After being terminated from the Los Angeles Police Department, Spade came home to see blood all over the front porch which led to the driveway. His two young sons were kidnapped and killed as a "message" to the former officer.

"Davis, my sons were killed, not me," Spade responded. "And I know who it was."

"Then let me help you," Davis said.

"No, he's still alive and this is _my_ case," Spade growled. "No one's gonna deny this person the justice that he has coming to him."

"What are you gonna do?"

"Whatever I want. Just stay out of this, Davis."

And with that, Spade zoomed off toward a gun shop, where he happened to be the owner's favorite customer.

"What do you have for me today, Morris?" Spade asked.

"Mr. Spade, nice to see you again. Come to the back with me."

Spade followed the older man behind the cash register. Morris pulled a lever, which took Spade to a part of the gun store he never saw before. There he saw old war weapons that he never thought would exist again.

"Call me Damijin," said Spade.

"Okay then, Damijin," said Morris. "Damijin it is."

The man went over to a box, where he pulled out a weapon that looked like a small assault rifle.

"This is my favorite here. It's an M-16 with an MX26 Shotgun System."

"Wow, I've heard of these," said Spade. "Shotgun under-barrel attachment and it's so I don't need to carry an extra weapon. Nice. I'll take it."

"It's time that I let this one go," said Morris. "But not without a heavy sum. This is a rare shotgun. Pistol grips can be attached or you can get a buttstock if you want to use it by itself."

Spade pulled out a wad of cash. "Does $400,000 help?"

"Yes, it does. Thank you."

With that, Spade picked the assault rifle/shotgun and walked out, getting on his bike to head toward the airport.


	18. A Long Flight

**I guess this would have to be a year later, when Spade realizes he can't be in this fight alone.**

Spade was at the airport, boarding a nonstop flight to India. He walked up the line as the passengers boarded. He grinned slightly as a flight attendant handed him a black bag and winked as Spade accepted the bag and walked toward the security gate. Airport security guards smiled at Spade as his bag went through the X-ray machine to check for contraband. One guard quickly shut off the metal detector as the vigilante passed through. The guards picked up Spade's travel bag and shook his hand.

"Have a good trip, Mr. Spade."

Spade pulled the lapels of his trench coat as he boarded the plane. He sat down next to a blonde haired woman, who happened to be looking at a _Playboy_ magazine.

_Lesbian, _thought Spade as he watched the lady look at the nude women in the mag. _Or at least bisexual, I hope._

As Spade entertained his thoughts of a tryst with this beautiful woman beside him, he looked through the contents of his bag. The usual twin .50 caliber Desert Eagles, Beretta 90-TWO, a Colt Diamondback, and his easy-to-assemble battle rifle. He knew the rest of his weapons would be waiting at the transfer stop.

**SEVEN HOURS LATER-**

The plane landed in Augusta, Maine. Spade got off, meeting a security guard at the gate. This guard handed him a new black bag.

"Mr. Spade, welcome to Augusta," he said.

"Thanks," Spade replied.

The vigilante waited for the people to board the plane as he did. He sat down next to the same hot chick who was into girls.

"Going to India?" asked Spade.

The woman finally turned and looked at Spade. "I am."

Spade was glad to be headed to India with such a beautiful woman next to him. Early the next morning, Spade's flight landed in Punjab, India. He stretched himself out and got up from his seat, walking off the plane with his two carry-on bags.


	19. Indian Massacre Begins, Part 1

**SEVEN HOURS LATER-**

The plane landed in Augusta, Maine. Spade got off, meeting a security guard at the gate. This guard handed him a new black bag.

"Mr. Spade, welcome to Augusta," he said.

"Thanks," Spade replied.

The vigilante waited for the people to board the plane as he did. He sat down next to the same hot chick that was into girls.

"Going to India?" asked Spade.

The woman finally turned and looked at Spade. "I am."

Spade was glad to be headed to India with such a beautiful woman next to him. Early the next morning, Spade's flight landed in Punjab, India. He stretched himself out and got up from his seat, walking off the plane with his two carry-on bags. He had no luggage to claim, so he left the gate and went outside, hailing a taxi down and stepping inside. The driver inside spoke Punjabi, then in English.

"Welcome to Punjab, Mr. Spade," said the driver. "Your...target is not too far from here."

"Thanks, Kali," replied Spade. "I knew those guys back in the States said you're a good guy. So what do you have for me?"

"All I know is that Mr. Bernan is currently residing at an inn at this time, Mr. Spade," Kali replied. "But be careful. He has bodyguards all over the place."

"Good job, Kali." said Spade, handing the cab driver 5,000 Rupees.

Kali drove Spade to the hotel that Bernan was staying at. While in the back of the tinted cab, Spade loaded his pistols and assembled a CETME with armor-piercing bullets, grenade launcher attachment, and scopes that could be switched in and out. With that, Spade donned his trench coat. Obviously, there was no need for the mask since Bernan knew who he was. Instead, he left his hood up and opened the door, exiting the vehicle. Spade walked into the hotel. He turned his head in all directions, looking to see who would be trouble. He spotted ten large men in black suits walking around, intimidating people for fun. That's who Spade started for. Spade had to be careful. He wasn't wearing his body armor and a bullet that hit the wrong part of his body could take his life. However, this gunslinger was not afraid of this fact. Damijin Spade's days in the military and in Los Angeles SWAT Force...those days were the reasons he lived for these kinds of risks and dangers. Spade's hands found his Colt Diamondback revolver. He pulled it out, firing a shot into the air. The people in the hotel heard the shots...silence...then panic as everyone ran for their lives. Bernan's bodyguards, however, they didn't run. They walked immediately over to where Spade was. Spade took a deep breath and then...

_To be continued_...

**A/N: You know what? This is so interesting, I may just leave you people hanging by the edge of your seats begging me to finish this. And I will...in the next book over on Fictionpress. Just kidding. I'll continue the new fic on here as well. For future info, **_**Faded Existence**_** will be released on FP too.**


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